Red Guy At Night
by LazyPerfectionist17
Summary: Lisbon has a less-than-professional dream about Jane. Does it mean anything? And will he be able to tell? Jisbon.
1. Bittersweet Dreams

**Red Guy At Night****: Lisbon has a less-than-professional dream about Jane. Does it mean anything? And will he be able to tell? Jisbon.**

**Note:**** Just a bit of fun that I've had in my head for quite a while. Please review!**

**Disclaimer:**** Still don't own The Mentalist.**

_She knows it is her apartment she has walked into, but checks the number on the door anyway, because this couldn't possibly be where she live__s. The layout is the same, but someone has snuck in and changed the décor, filling the room with hydrangeas and photographs, completely personalising her once-sterile home. She walks over to the cabinet where the pictures sit, her footsteps making no noise. _

_She looks at the picture and sees what should seem strange: it is a photo of her and Jane, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, smiling as if they have not a care in the world. She wrinkles her brow and turns around to find him standing there, silently smiling back at her, and she gasps in shock. Then, all of a sudden his lips are on hers, kissing her passionately, and the electricity between them is tangible. _

_Pure ecstasy fills her, surging through her veins as they kiss their way blindly to her bedroom, their entwined bodies ricocheting off the walls as they hold desperately, urgently onto one another. He lays her on the bed with such gentle tenderness it makes her heart break, and she is as lost in his cherubic blonde curls as he is in her inky tresses. His hot sweet breath fills her mind, and she murmurs "I love you," into his mouth, knowing it is true. She has never loved anyone as much as she loves him at this moment. They are locked in passionate, ensnaring embrace, and light tickles her closed eyelids. _

_She flits open her emerald eyes to watch her bedroom ceiling opening up before her, the bright blue sky singing with sunlight above her, and the music is so beautiful she wants to be a part of it, and she floats closer towards it. Tendrils of hope try desperately to stay within his grasp, but the music and light are too strong and they wrench her away from him, and she is falling, falling, falling…_

* * *

><p>Teresa Lisbon jolted awake to the violent chirping of her phone as it vibrated its way to the edge of her bedside table. Groggily, she sat up, her body still dull from the weight of sleep, and clumsily grabbed the phone. "Lisbon," she mumbled, her voice hoarse from slumber.<p>

A familiar voice greeted her, "Hey sleeping beauty," Jane teased and immediately it all came flooding back to her; the dream, the kiss, _everything else._ Her face grew beetroot red, and her jaw dropped, her mind awash with confusion, embarrassment and blind panic. Trudging through her mess of emotions, she numbly found some words, her brain completely on autopilot.

"I wasn't asleep." She lied, waiting expectantly for the point of the phone call, whilst her heart and brain battled for control. "Aah," Jane said knowingly, the stifled chuckle audible in his voice.

" 'Aah', what?" Lisbon demanded irritably, too disorientated to play his stupid games.

"Well," started Jane matter-of-factly, "You're voice is very hoarse which means you were either asleep, or you just had sex."

"Oh haha," she replied, concentrating very hard on sounding sarcastic to avoid continuing this uncomfortably close line of questioning. She cut him off before he could go any further. "May I ask what the point of this early-morning phone call is?"

"We have a case," he replied, before ringing off an address and description of the victim.

"Great," she answered numbly. "I'll be there soon."

Hanging up the phone, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself, before saying aloud, "What the hell is going on with me?" When the empty room didn't provide an answer, she simply shook her head and pushed herself out of her bed, putting on her work face and stuffing her subconscious in a box at the back of her mind.


	2. RealLife Nightmares

"_It was only a dream, it was only a dream," _Lisbon whispered repeatedly to herself, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat as she sauntered out of her black SUV onto the crime scene. She jumped when Van Pelt, the rookie agent appeared at her elbow. "What was that boss?" the young woman asked, her pretty hazel eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Nothing," Lisbon brushed her off, terrified that the red-headed girl had heard her. Van Pelt's face dropped a little, disappointed that she wasn't being let in on what she thought was something about the case. But Lisbon knew the rookie respected her too much to pry, so she just nodded and walked away.

She felt like her cheeks were still flaming after the dream she'd had about Jane. She didn't even think of him that way…did she? That dream had left her feeling so confused and vulnerable and she hated it. _It was just a one-off, _she tried to convince herself. _Lots of people have sex dreams about their co-workers, it doesn't mean anything. Yeah, that's right. It's completely normal, nothing to worry about. _She forced herself to smile, to try and laugh it off in her mind, but something was making it stick there, some little detail that she couldn't quite remember was bugging her. _If I can avoid him, just for today, then by tomorrow I'll have forgotten all about that stupid dream. _

"Lisbon, how nice of you to join us!" _Great._

"Hi Jane," she smiled half-heartedly, avoiding his gaze. "What've we got?" she asked, but her tone was halting, and her posture wooden, awkwardness practically radiating out of her. He didn't miss a thing, his piercing blue eyes scanning over her, noting every little sign of her sudden discomfort. "What is it?" he asked, tilting his head to catch her constantly flitting gaze. "What?" she replied, deflecting his question transparently, busying herself by looking at the case files she had picked up from beside the team's van.

He didn't falter, his interest grabbed by her strange behaviour and unusual quietness. "Why won't you look me in the eye?" he demanded, his voice changing rapidly from playfulness to concern.

Lisbon stopped pretending to read, levelling her breathing and meeting his gaze pointedly. "Happy?" She had meant it to sound cutting and irritable, but when she looked in his eyes she felt all the feelings of her dream rushing back through her, and it had come out more of a squeak. They stared silently at one another for a moment, and she willed herself not to break eye contact, or blush or tremble in a way that would give anything away. In the end, it didn't matter; he could read her guarded expression like a book.

* * *

><p>Jane smirked as he pieced it together in his mind; her voice on the phone, her awkwardness, and her sudden defiance in their intense staring match…she had dreamt about him. His mind raced with ways he could use this, how much entertainment this would bring him in the coming weeks as he teased and taunted her. But then he saw the defeated, pleading look in her bright green eyes. She knew he knew. He suddenly felt a tug of…guilt? He didn't want to humiliate her. He wanted to protect her. She looked so small and fragile in front of him as he realised she was vulnerable right now. And so for the first time in his career with the CBI, Jane let something go.<p>

"We've got some witnesses over there," he said, gesturing to a cluster of people outside the yellow tape. "Cho and Rigsby are interviewing them now." She looked gratefully at him for changing the subject before springing into action. "Ok, Van Pelt, run background checks on the vic's family. Cho and Rigsby should be done in a while, tell them to help you. Jane, you're with me, let's go talk to forensics." He watched her, in her element, barking orders-being in control. She looked so relaxed, so confident there…no-one would guess how insecure she had been only a few minutes ago. Following her as she walked away, he wondered why he felt differently this time; why he didn't want to torture her with his abilities. Then he realised…when it came to their relationship, just knowing where she stood was enough.

* * *

><p>Lying in her bed that night, Lisbon puzzled over the enigma that was Patrick Jane. He knew. He <em>knew<em> she had dreamt about him, and any other day he would have teased her mercilessly about it. So why not today? What was different?

She turned over, flipping the pillow to the cold side and enjoying the soothing coolness against her warm cheek. She thought about the dream, and the metaphorical box she'd stuffed it in. It would have to come out sometime, but not right now. She didn't want to dissect her complicated feelings towards her consultant yet. Honestly, she was scared of what she'd find.

Just as she was teetering on the brink of sleep, a flash of a moment invaded her mind, and all of a sudden, in a moment of recognition, she remembered with alarming clarity that niggling detail of her dream that had refused to leave her alone: _His hot sweet breath fills her mind, and she murmurs "I love you," into his mouth, knowing it is true._

Sitting bolt upright, Lisbon broke out on a cold sweat and gripped her sheets, trying to steady her uneven, shallow breaths. "Oh my God," she whispered, so quietly she had to strain to hear herself. "I'm in love with Patrick Jane." The realisation hit her harder that a bullet and she sunk back down into the bed, her eyes wide with shock and fear.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
